


The Red Nose Diaries

by LizzieBee828



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizzieBee828/pseuds/LizzieBee828
Summary: Post-IWTB and Pre-Season 10.  On the advice of his therapist, Mulder starts doing volunteer work.  He ends up working with kids at Scully's hospital, unbeknownst to her.  Inner demons are battled, relationships are reconnected, and sweetness ensues.  A dollop of angst washed down with soul-soothing fluff. tw: discussion of depression, depressive thoughts.





	The Red Nose Diaries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gillyAnne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillyAnne/gifts).



> This is my first ever fanfic, and a gift to Fleur, @gillyAnne. I hope you like it!
> 
> Special thanks to my chat girls for their much-needed support (scullyismyspiritanimal, lappina, Annemarie, foxanddanapetrie, and becausetheydontexist). You helped me muster up the confidence to take this leap! Also a special shout-out to all the XF Fanfic writers who have inspired me along the way. This fandom rocks.
> 
> Credit for cheesy baseball jokes goes to https://blog.justbats.com/best-baseball-jokes-of-all-time

He was working on feeling.

 

It had been awhile since he’d felt anything at all. And before that, his feelings had been so intense he could barely stand it. A bottomless pit of hopelessness that roiled in his gut and made him feel like he was falling, falling. A roller coaster where the first drop never ends. He spent most of those days sleeping. It was the only way he could think of to hide from the twisting ache in his chest.

 

These days that ache had turned to a lead weight. It sat in his chest and pulled him down, down. It made every thought, every movement, a Herculean effort. He didn’t feel pain or hopelessness anymore - in fact, he didn’t feel much of anything. He had officially flipped over to the bizarro universe of his own psyche.  From agony to apathy. Whereas before he ate crappy processed food to give himself something to do, something to distract his overclocking brain, now he could hardly be bothered with even basic nourishment. There wasn’t anything left inside him to feed.

 

These days he rattled around his empty, dusty house like a dirty penny in an old shoe box. Wandering from room to room with no purpose, sprawled on the sofa in days-old running pants that hung loose on his hips.  All of his clothes seemed made to fit someone else these days. It was as if someone had come in the night and switched his collection of sweatpants, basketball shorts and white tees for exact copies that were two sizes too big.  If it was 20 years ago, he could have opened a fucking X-File on that. Drawers to another dimension. Closets inhabited by shirt-swapping elves.

 

God he was a mess.

 

Yet once a week he was pulled filthy and blinking into the light of day, gentle hands on the small of his back guiding him to the passenger seat of a silver sedan.  Once a week he sat in a waiting room filled with old copies of Family Circle, Golf Digest, and the drone of white noise machines. Once a week he talked to a short, balding man named Dr. Ronald Purvis about his mood, his sleep patterns, his eating habits, his life such as it was.  Once a week he got to see Scully.

 

It was a promise she had made to him on the day she left their unremarkable house.  “Mulder, I have to go. I need to go. Every day I feel like you fall farther and farther away from me.  And I used to think that I could be strong enough to pull you back. That I could be strong enough for both of us.  But I’ve realized that living here with you is making me weak. I’m getting dragged down with you and… and I’ve fallen so far and so deep that I don’t recognize myself anymore.”

 

“Scully - “

 

“Mulder, I need this,” she had said, packing her suitcase with shaking hands, “I need to find myself again, for my sake and for yours.”

 

“Scully, please… please don’t leave.  I need you. I don’t think I can do this on my own.”

Her hand had cupped his cheek then, thumb smoothing the lines under his eyes, wiping tears he hadn’t even realized were falling.  “You won’t be alone.” She took a shuddering breath, blue eyes searching hazel. “I need to leave now, but I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got your back, partner. Always.”

 

Her thumb found his trembling lips, brushing them lightly before leaving a soft kiss in its place.  He bowed his head, and she lifted up on tiptoes to press her lips tightly to his forehead, her eyes squeezed shut against her own threatening tears. He pressed his hand to her chest, feeling the strong thrum of her heart beneath his fingertips.  They had stayed like that for long moments, Mulder’s eyes slipping closed as he felt his heartbeat slow and beat in time with hers. This woman was his lifeline, in every sense of the word. He was certain that his broken heart was only beating now because her own willed it, squeezing the blood through his ventricles and forcing breath into his lungs. His Scully, ever the doctor, was his very own heart-lung machine.  

 

But then his skin turned cold as she stepped back and a strangled cry filled the room.  When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

For six long months, the days dragged on.  And every Tuesday afternoon, the silver sedan would make its way up the long dirt driveway to the unremarkable house.  Every Tuesday afternoon, Scully would arrive with groceries, drive him to his therapy appointment, and watch as he forced down the well-balanced meal she ordered for him at the local diner.  Just like Dr. Purvis, she asked about his mood, his eating, his sleeping. She made sure he was taking his meds. She held his hand.

 

Mulder did his best to follow doctors’ orders - both Scully and Dr. Purvis.  He managed to force some smiles when he was around them, managed to crack a joke or two at his own expense.  He felt sure they could see right through him. He felt like an imposter, a robot, an alien shape-shifter in Mulder form.  He would hear the words coming out of his mouth but there was no feeling behind them. Every Tuesday he told them what they wanted to hear and then retreated back to the silence of the unremarkable house, exhausted.  Pretending to be human was hard work.

 

But Scully, ever the dutiful soldier, worked even harder.  Even though she was working all hours in the pediatric neurology ward, she managed to call Mulder every day to check in.  She’d remind him to eat, remind him to take his meds, suggest a shower or a walk outside.

 

At night he dreamed of Antarctica. But in his dreams he was the one who was frozen, embedded in ice with his humanity dripping away bit by bit. Scully was there.  He could see her through cloudy and rippling ice. She was chipping away. He could practically hear the “tink tink” of her steely resolve on the surface of his tortured brain.  In a plot twist that Jose Chung would have appreciated, his partner had become the believer. She knew he was still in there… now she just had to prove her theory. The best he could do was draw from the strength of her belief.  

 

It was perhaps their 25th session when Dr. Purvis announced his new plan for Mulder. “A little homework assignment,” he had grinned, and it took all the strength Mulder had not to groan aloud.  His therapist (perhaps in a conspiracy with his physician) had decided that another weekly excursion should be added to his regimen. “I really think you would benefit from some kind of socially-oriented volunteer work, Fox,” Dr. Purvis said.  “You’ve been so isolated for so long. If we could find you something to do that would allow you to get out of your own head and interact with others in a safe and productive manner, I really think it would help you move forward in this process.”

 

“Ah… yeah.  Um, that’s something I’ll think about,” Mulder managed.

 

“Why don’t you brainstorm some ideas… come up with some kind of volunteer work that would have meaning to you personally, and we can talk about it at our next session, ok?”

 

“Great. That’s… great.  I guess I’ll see you next week.”

 

In the waiting room, Scully looked up from her patient notes and smiled as Mulder emerged.  “How did it go? Good session?” she asked brightly, giving his hand a squeeze.

 

“Oh you know me… Fox Mantle, hitting psychotherapy sessions out of the park,” he smiled.

 

Scully gave a quiet chuckle.  “Ok Mr. Mantle, care to join me for a little post-game dinner? Just let me gather up my stuff and we’ll get out of here.”

 

While Scully collected her paperwork and filed it all carefully away into her briefcase, Mulder sauntered over to the bulletin board near the exit.  He glanced aimlessly over the pinned flyers, wanted ads, and community events until his eyes fell on some familiar words, “Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital”.  He plucked the small piece of paper out from behind an ad for a used drum kit. “Volunteers needed at Our Lady of Sorrows! Become a part of our children’s support network at OLS. Our team provides much needed comfort and reassurance to children who are undergoing medical testing.  This opportunity is enriching to both volunteer and patient, and helps us continue to improve our standard of care at Our Lady of Sorrows. Please contact Deborah at Volunteer Services for more info.”

 

Before he realized what his fingers were doing, he had folded the slip of paper and slipped it into his pocket.  

 

“Ready?” Scully asked, pulling on her jacket.

 

“Let’s roll, Doc.”

\-----------------------------------------

Three days later, Mulder straightened his tie as he walked into the brightly colored waiting room.  The hospital lights and smells seemed dampened here, more distant. Pictures of superheroes and princesses adorned the walls, and a long chain of colorful strips of paper spanned halfway across the room.  A large large fish tank bubbled happily in a corner. So this was to be his new hang-out for the next few weeks - the waiting area of the Pediatric Neurological Imaging Department at Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital.

 

It seemed relatively quiet at the moment - a pre-teen girl with glasses sat curled on a bench by the window, playing on her phone.  A brother and sister sat on the floor by a table, scribbling away at coloring books while a pair of green balloons hovered over their heads.  Images of a crayon potato and a blonde-bobbed little girl with a red t-shirt and blue overalls flashed before his eyes, and he blinked them back.  These were kids he could do something for. These were kids he could help.

 

He cleared his throat, wiped his sweaty hands down his white t-shirt, straightened his gaudy Yankees tie (a gift from the Gunmen that Scully decreed could never be worn in public, please Mulder) and walked up to the reception desk.  “Hi… I’m Fox Mulder. I just came from visiting Deborah at Volunteer Services, and she sent me up.”

 

“Great! I’m Laurie.  Thanks so much for helping us out, Fox!  As I’m sure Deborah told you, this room is sort of a holding area for patients waiting to undergo neurological imaging studies.  None of these tests are painful, but many of the kids have a lot of anxiety around the process. We find that having someone to talk to and joke around with really helps them get through the day with as little stress as possible. I assume Deborah gave you your red nose?”

 

“Yeah… uh, I’ve got it right here,” he said, pulling the red foam nose from his back jeans pocket.  “Good thing they come in jumbo size,” he grinned shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

 

“Hey look who’s clowning around already!” she beamed.  “I think you’ll do just fine. We like to keep things light and informal around here, so our volunteers go by either a fun alias or their first names.  I have markers here so you can make your nametag nice and colorful. I assume you’ll have the kids call you Fox?”

 

“No, not Fox.  I think I’ll go with a nom de plume around here… I just have to come up with something approachable and witty that would be a hit with the younger demographic here and set the tone for all future interactions.  Something memorable but not outrageous. Something that evokes reassurance and safety while still being free-spirited and engaging. That’s easy, right?” he said, grabbing a fat orange marker.

 

Long seconds ticked by.

 

Mulder leaned over the counter, pleading in a low voice, “I’ve got nothing, Laurie.  Help a clown out?”

 

Laurie took one look at the garish Yankee tie knotted loosely around his neck and smirked, “How about ‘Mr. Baseball’?”

 

A wide toothy grin spread over Mulder’s face as he pushed the bright red ball onto his nose and began to write “MR. BASEBALL” in big capital letters on the sticky nametag.  His second “L” came out crooked, however, when a sudden loud “pop” rang through the room. Laurie jumped in her seat.

 

“Oh come on!” yelled a young voice from the center of the room. Mulder turned and immediately spotted a brown-haired boy around 8 or 9 years old, with short brown hair and large brown eyes.  He was sitting in a kid-sized chair at a kid-sized table in the middle of the room, holding a ribbon with a deflated bundle of green latex tied to one end. A little girl who must have been his sister, and who couldn’t have been older than three, sat next to him whimpering.  In her hand was a similar ribbon. Although hers was attached to a fully inflated, happily bobbing green balloon.

 

“Seriously, Anna?” the boy shouted. “I told you not to touch my balloon! You destroyed it and I can’t get another one and I’m telling mom when she gets back from the bathroom. You’re taking my worst day ever and making it worse! I’m gonna kill you!”

 

“I sowwy Evan! I sowwy!” the little girl snivelled, fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

 

“Whoa whoa there guys!” Mulder said, walking over and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Let’s see if we can skip the death threats and work something out here.”

 

“There’s nothing to work out!” the boy cried, clenching his hands into fists. “Mom brought me to Pizza Hut because Dr. Dana says I have to do another tunnel test today, and the waitress gave us balloons and now stupid Anna ruined the only good thing that’s happened all day. I’m gonna kill her.”

 

“Wow, that sounds like a pretty rough day you’re having,” Mulder said, attempting to fold his body in half and sit in the miniature seat next to the boy.

 

“It’s the worst day ever,” the boy proclaimed solemnly.

 

Mulder gave an understanding smile and nodded his head. Then he turned to the little girl who was the spitting image of her big brother, only with chin-length curly hair, tear-stained cheeks and a trembling lower lip.  Mulder gently brushed away the tears with his thumb and lightly laid a hand on her back. “It looks like Anna here isn’t exactly having the time of her life either.”

 

“I guess not,” the boy replied, slumping in his seat.  

 

“Hey, wait here.  I have an idea,” Mulder said.  His knees popped as he stood up from the tiny chair and walked over to the reception desk.  “Hey Laurie, could I borrow one of those?” he said, pointing to a box of blue latex gloves on the counter next to a bottle of hand sanitizer.

 

“Sure thing,” the receptionist replied.

 

Sitting down once again, Mulder shook out the blue glove and placed the open end around his mouth.  Two pairs of brown eyes grew wide as he breathed four lungfuls of air into the glove, causing the center to inflate and the five fingers to pop out stiffly.  Mulder quickly tied off the open end into a knot.

 

“Now I know he’s not from Pizza Hut, but this guy is just as cool as his little green friend over there.  In fact, this guy is SO cool, he has a mohawk,” Mulder proclaimed as he grabbed a black marker from the center of the table and began to draw googly eyes on either side of the protruding thumb.  He then added a toothy smile right below the thumb, giving the appendage the appearance of a long, Pinocchio-type nose. With the facial features in place, the fingers at the top of the glove looked like four funky mohawk spikes.  “His nose might be a little… different… but we won’t hold that against him,” Mulder chuckled, tapping his own red schnoz. He bounced the glove-balloon gently towards the boy with a soft “ping,” sending it gliding gracefully back down to the table, bouncing twice.  “What’s your name, buddy?”

 

“Evan,” the boy said, grinning widely and lifting the blue bundle into his hands.  “This is so cool! How did you even think of this? It would have taken me a million years to have an idea like this.  Hey Anna, see this? My new balloon is even better! Mine has a cool mohawk and your balloon is boring and… BALD!”

 

“Hey now,” Mulder chuckled.  He grabbed the little girl’s floating green balloon and began to draw tiny black eyes, a long stately nose, and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses on the rubber surface.  “Some of my best friends are bald.”

 

Evan laughed and looked at Mulder, as if only now seeing him for the first time.  “You look ridiculous, you know,” he stated matter-of-factly.

 

“Well, the whole idea is that I’m supposed to be a little ridiculous.  My job is to make the kids here feel a little better when they’re having rough days.” He tapped his red nose. “It’s a clown thing.”

 

“No, I mean you look ridiculous wearing a Yankees tie.  This is Virginia. You’re supposed to root for the Nationals.”

 

Like a damn breaking, they both burst into hysterical laughter.

 

\-------------------------------------------------

 

That night, after thanking his Uber driver and opening the door to the unremarkable house, Mulder collapsed onto the sofa and loosened his tie.  He realized he was starving. After eating one of the Scully-approved pre-made entrees from the fridge, he trudged upstairs to bed. He was exhausted, but it was a different kind of exhaustion he’d been feeling the past few months.  Somehow the tiredness that spread through his body felt… clean. He slept a dreamless sleep.

 

\---------------------------------------------

 

At his weekly appointment with Dr. Purvis, Mulder found himself chattering on and on about the patients he’d met at Our Lady of Sorrows.  These kids were all great kids. They were stressed-out and nervous, and they were there for all kinds of reasons - epilepsy, migraines, cerebral palsy and brain injury - but they all had one thing in common.  An unshakeable faith in “Dr. Dana.” They spoke of her kindness, of how she always talked to them like people, not babies. They talked about how smart she was, about how she had made the seizures stop, the migraines go away.  They talked about Dr. Dana as if she walked on water. Mulder knew the feeling well.

 

“So what does Dana think about your volunteering at the hospital?” the therapist asked.

 

“I actually haven’t told her about it yet,” Mulder replied.  “At first I wasn’t even sure I was gonna go through with it. And then… I don’t know.  I just have so much that I want to prove to myself first. She’s been there for me every step of the way, but this is something I have to do on my own.  I don’t want her to feel like she has to hold my hand for this. I owe her that much.”

 

“But working at the same hospital… don’t you run into her?”

 

“Actually, it’s a pretty big operation over there.  Me and the kids hang out in the waiting room down in the imaging department, and Scully is on the next floor up, going over the test results and meeting with the families.  She does surgeries on Wednesdays and Fridays. I can’t believe how busy she is. I don’t know how she makes time for herself, let alone for me. She’s been taking care of these kids but she’s also buying my groceries and driving me to therapy.  She’s… she’s incredible. I mean, I’ve always known that but… I guess I had just stopped seeing it. I had stopped seeing everything.”

 

\-------------------------------------------

  


A few weeks later, “Mr. Baseball” was quite the celebrity around the imaging department.  Kids looked forward to playing round after round of “thumb war” with him, laughing at his Mr. Potato Head impressions, and mohawk balloons became the hottest trend on the ward.  Mulder went through two boxes of gloves, much to Laurie’s amusement.

 

But perhaps the biggest hit of all was Mr. Baseball’s cheesy jokes.  

 

“Hey Maddie, why are frogs so good at baseball?”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because they’re great at catching flies!”

 

“Hey Brandon, why did the FBI agent run to the baseball game?”

 

“I dunno… why?”

 

“Because someone stole second base!”

 

“Hey Alex, what position does Dracula play on his baseball team?”

 

“Um… is he the pitcher?”

 

“That’s a great guess, but he’s actually… the BAT BOY!”

 

Even the teenagers, who rolled their eyes and mumbled about dad jokes, couldn’t help but smile when Mulder would sit down next to them and give them a one-liner.  Baseball jokes would lead to talk of sports teams and hobbies, which would eventually lead to talk of their particular diagnosis and reason for testing. They talked about their hatred of pills, their fear of needles or enclosed spaces.  They told the man in the tacky tie things they couldn’t bring themselves to worry their parents about. And somehow, by saying these things out loud, they became a little less scary. What was once a quiet and tense waiting area was now a room filled with the buzz of happy chatter and frequent giggles.  The kids seemed lighter. And every day, Mulder felt that knot in his chest unravel a little more.

 

That week at their post-therapy dinner, Scully began some gentle prodding.  “Mulder, I really think Dr. Purvis is right about trying your hand at some volunteer work.  I think it could really do wonders for you. Have you thought any more about it?”

 

“Ah yeah, actually, I’ve had a few ideas.  Don’t worry, Scully. I’ll work something out.”

 

She gave him a slow, appraising stare before she went back to picking at her chef salad.   “Alright Mulder. I just don’t want you to brush this off. It wouldn’t just be you who’s benefiting from this arrangement.  There are people out there you could be helping.”

 

“Yeah,” Mulder said softly, not daring to bring his eyes to hers.

 

Scully continued. “You know there’s a volunteer at the hospital who’s been making a big difference for my patients lately.  They’ve been raving to me about him - both the kids and the parents. He goes by Mr. Basketball or something goofy like that.  Anyway, I’ve never seen my patients more relaxed and happy than I have since he’s started working downstairs. There’s so much out there in the world Mulder, and I want you to feel like you’re a part of it again.  I want you to want that too.”

 

They finished their meal in silence.  A part of him wanted to tell Scully about his work at the hospital, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.  Mr. Baseball had ignited something new within him - a tiny spark held somewhere in his soul that belonged just to him and the kids. He realized suddenly that he didn’t want to share this spark just yet.  He wanted to protect it and watch it grow first. He was doing this work for the kids and himself and no one else.

 

Not even Scully.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------    

 

The weeks seemed to fly by, and Mulder realized he was starting to wake up each morning and look forward to the day, whether he was scheduled to see the kids or not.  He began cleaning the dust, grime and debris that had accumulated over the months in the first floor of the unremarkable house. He blasted the radio as he worked, listening to the local pop station.  He wanted to be able to converse intelligently with the patients about the latest music. The sounds of Imagine Dragons, Maroon 5, and Ariana Grande bounced off the rafters of the unremarkable house.

 

Since no one likes a stinky clown, he was showering every day.  He was doing laundry, even going so far as to separate the lights from the darks.  One Tuesday morning he shocked Scully by telling her he wouldn’t be needing groceries for the week, since he had already done the shopping.

 

“I have to say, Fox, I’m really seeing some meaningful progress here,” Dr. Purvis declared at that week’s session.     

  

“Yeah, my socks actually match today, Doc.”

 

“No I mean it.  I think it’s safe to say that your little ‘homework assignment’ has been quite a success.  Have you felt ready to share any of this with Dana yet?”

 

“I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.  I just don’t know what to say at this point.  How do you tell someone ‘I’ve been volunteering behind your back?’”

 

“Dana clearly loves you, Fox.  And I know she’d be proud of what you’ve managed to create here.  I know I am.”

 

“Hey Doc, how many therapists does it take to change a lightbulb?”

 

Dr. Purvis sighed.  “How many?”

 

“Just one, so long as the lightbulb WANTS to change.”

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------

 

The next morning, while Mulder was signing in at the reception desk, a young woman appeared at this side.

 

“Excuse me, Laurie?” she asked quietly, leaning over the counter.  “Could I get a strip of paper for the gratitude chain please? Nathaniel’s been seizure-free ever since Dr. Scully started him on this new course of meds, and I’d just like to add a link.”

 

“Sure thing!” smiled Laurie. “That’s great news! Definitely something to be thankful for!” She handed her a thin strip of red construction paper and a black magic marker.  The woman smiled and nodded to Mulder before making her way to sit at the table next to a boy wearing a Minecraft hoodie. The mother and son huddled together over the piece of paper.

 

“Gratitude chain?” Mulder asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Laurie.

 

“Yeah! Haven’t you noticed the paper chain along the walls in here? Each link was added by a patient or parent, with something they’re thankful for written on it.  We find it’s a good way to keep the kids thinking positively. Practicing gratitude can be very powerful.”

 

He had indeed noticed the chain, but thought it was simply a colorful way to brighten up the child-themed space. Now that he thought about it, the chain was actually significantly longer now than it had been when he first arrived in the department.  It used to span one wall, but now it was practically wrapped around the room. He had just assumed Laurie had had some time to kill at her desk and went stapler-happy in a fit of boredom. At least it was more productive than throwing pencils at the ceiling.

 

He strolled over to the start of the chain on the wall to his left.  The outside of each link was just plain colored construction paper. Lifting one gently between two fingers, he saw that there was childish scribbling on the inside.  He turned it and read, “I’m thankful for Dr. Dana because she made my headaches go away. - Brittany” Mulder felt a surge of pride and a swelling in his heart. He read the next link.  “I’m thankful because Dr. Dana said I can play sports again. - Ryan” The links went on and on. “I’m thankful we found the right dosage of Depakote! - Nicole” “Thankful for another good MRI! - James” “Thank you to Dr. Scully for the successful removal of Jonathan’s tumor. - Megan”

 

He had reached halfway around the room when he read it:  “I’m thankful to Mr. Baseball for making my horrible day better. - Evan.”  Mulder gave a short intake of breath, and froze with his fingers still on the bright green link.  He remembered that first day vividly. How that dark-haired little boy had been a bundle of nerves and frustration before his “tunnel test.”  And how they had ended up chatting away about the Yankees and the Nationals, the tension seeping out of the boy’s body like tea into hot water.

 

Mulder smiled, and went to the next chain.  “I’m thankful that Mr. Baseball was here to make me laugh. - Caitlyn.”  The next one. “I am thankful that I beat Mr. Baseball in thumb-wrestling today! - Kyle.” The next. “I am thankful to Mr. Baseball for his silly faces. - Audrey.” The next. “I am thankful that Mr. Baseball is here to remind me not to be afraid.”

 

The chain continued down the entire next wall.  Dozens and dozens of links. Mulder’s throat was tight and his feet felt bolted to the floor.  He became dimly aware of a familiar voice.

 

“...Thanks so much, Laurie.  I’m not sure how the mix-up happened, but I figured I could sort out the whole mess if I just went through the stack of orders myself.  It should only take a few minutes.”

 

He couldn’t help it.  He turned towards the voice like a new sprout towards the sun.  Ever in sync, Scully must have sensed the movement and looked up from her pile of paperwork.  Their eyes locked across the room, clear blue over pale skin and cloudy hazel over a bright red clown nose.  Neither spoke.

 

Finally, Scully breathed, “Oh my God. Mulder.”

 

Just then, a family of four came bustling into the waiting room in a flurry of jackets and bags and snacks and tablets. A high-pitched voice screeched “Mr. Baseballlllllll!” as a blur of blonde hair and gangly legs zipped by and wrapped itself around Mulder.  “You’re here!” said the boy, tugging Mulder’s arm and pulling him towards the table. “We need to have a thumb-war rematch! You’re going _down_!  Oh hey Dr. Dana!”

 

Mulder allowed himself to be pulled haltingly backwards towards the table.  “Sure thing, buddy,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Scully’s. Finally a pink tint and a shy smile spread across his face.

 

“ _You’re_ Mr. Baseball?” Scully mouthed, eyebrows lifted skyward.

 

“Surprise, Doc,” Mulder managed.

 

Long seconds passed.  Then Scully’s lips stretched into a smile as wide as Mulder’s.  “Want to grab lunch together in an hour or so? I’ll meet you down here.”

 

“It’s a date, Dr. Dana.  As long as I survive the coming thumbpocolypse.  I’ve been warned I’m going down.”

 

“Something tells me you won’t go down without a fight.  See you in a bit, Mr. Baseball.”

  


\--------------------------------------------------

 

They spent a long lunch in the hospital cafeteria, bantering endlessly about the remarkable kids they had helped together… like partners.  Scully even let herself be seen with Mulder while he wore the dreaded tacky Yankees tie. After lunch they walked back to the imaging waiting area, where they looked over the gratitude chain together.  Scully looked up at Mulder with tears in her eyes.

 

“Mulder.  I am _so_ very proud of you.”  Then looking down and clearing her throat, she added, “How about I give you a ride home tonight?  I’ll meet you here around 6?”

 

“Sounds perfect,” Mulder said softly.

 

As Scully was walking away, he called out, “Hey Dr. Dana! What did the baseball glove say to the ball?”

 

“I don’t know, Mr. Baseball,” she said, slowly turning. “What _did_ the baseball glove say to the ball?”

 

"Catch you later!"

  


The End.

  
  
  


 

  
  


   


End file.
